Blessings can come from the most unexpected places. A smile from a stranger. A friend’s warm caress. A plumber who’s free right when you need him. Blessings. They make up so much of our day, if we just take the time to notice.
Two months ago, I received one of the most extraordinary blessings ever. My husband and I had just arrived in Idaho, where we were going to spend several weeks honoring our 25th wedding anniversary. “Boise,” I thought to myself as I rode the short escalator to the lower level, “Never thought I’d be going to Boise.” He went to the right to the rental car counters, and I to the left to baggage claim. In only a few minutes, I had our bags and was completely alone in this quiet little airport. In the waiting area was a wall of photos, a display of the most important people in Idaho’s history of aviation. After reading about some fascinating women, (yes, I chose to just read about the women : ), I glanced to my right and noticed the most classily dressed business woman I’d ever seen. Black jacket, slacks, briefcase. She had the crispness of a well-put-together-woman, without any air of pretension. Doing a double-take, I realized I knew her; it was Liz, one of my absolutely best friends from college. (And now, as I think about it, I realize probably my best friend from college. She’s who I think of first when I think of those days, *first after my older sister, who resides in that special place in my heart reserved for blood sisters—I have two.)
“L i z. Liz is here in Boise. In baggage claim. Liz!”
“Susan!,” she called out, “It is you! What are you doing here in Boise?”
“I think I’m here to see you,” I replied.
She gave me that “get real” look and asked again, “What are you doing here? Well, I can see that you’re going skiing by your luggage,” she replied in answer to her own question. “But what are you doing here? And where’s Tony? Is he here with you?”
“Yes,” I nodded in reply, “He’s getting our rental car.”
And with that we hugged, and hugged, and hugged.
“Oh, now I know why I just had to bring Dad’s quilt!,” I said as I pulled it out of my backpack.
Less than one year after my Dad died (and at Thanksgiving), my oldest sister presented me and my two other siblings each with a one-of-a-kind quilt made from Dad’s favorite shirts. Yes, I cried too when I first saw it and felt it against my skin. Liz had known and loved my Dad. Being from out of town, she would join our family for Easter practically every year while she was in college. She too remembers Dad’s bear hugs and laugh-out-loud enthusiasm for life. She too would appreciate this quilt.
Liz. I ran into Liz in Boise, Idaho. At baggage claim. I’d just received an email from her earlier that day. She hadn’t mentioned where she was. The last time I’d seen her in the flesh was approximately 11-years prior. And here she was in Boise, on business, on a short day trip, and leaving in two hours. My husband and I were there to honor our 25th anniversary and draw this chapter of our life to a close. Why to a close? Because we are taking a break from our “work” life and beginning our personal journeys into our heart-selves. Journeys to explore the deepest parts of ourselves. Journeys to parts unknown.
The next week as I was skiing in beautiful Sun Valley, I remembered something important. Something that added even more meaning to running into Liz the week before.
Twenty-five years ago, newly married and excited to start our life together in Hawaii, my husband and I traveled across the country in our 1971 VW bus. And when we landed in California, we stayed with Liz. She had recently moved to Long Beach to begin her life after college; she had just started dating a former high school friend who would eventually become her husband. It was Liz who picked us up that auspicious day as we were walking down a desolate road at Matson’s vast shipyard; we had just left all our possessions behind to be shipped to O‘ahu. We were moving to Honolulu to begin our video production company and business life together.
Liz.
And here we are, starting another phase of our life. And Liz magically appears.
I called her an angel that day at the Boise airport, and she laughed.
And now, as I begin my journey with a first-stop in Bangkok, I realize that she indeed is an angel. And that her unexpected appearance that day was the perfect Blessing on which to launch our solo-yet-not journeys.
Please join me on this adventure. My glob will be exactly that, a glob of this-and-that. I too will be observing how it unfolds. I too will be expecting blessing after blessing, as I give thanks for one after another, and for all of Y O U wonderful beings who are joining me on this ride. May the Light of God guide each one of us on our solo-yet-not journey.
: )
*Yes, lots of firsts. It’s actually possible to have several firsts that happen at the same time. Fun to think about, isn’t it?